Rock Chick Reawakening (Rock Chick 0.5)(38)
Marcus reached for his bread, murmuring, “I’ll talk to Smithie. He can wait a week while we’re in Aspen, and when we come back, if you still want to dance, you can go back then.”
I didn’t get into the “if you still want to dance” part.
I said, “I already arranged it with Smithie, Marcus.”
He chewed his bread, swallowed, and locked his eyes on me. “I’ll rearrange it.”
Oh boy.
“Okay, sugar, just to say, that’s my job and Smithie’s my boss. I know you got a stake in that club but he’s my boss, and we got it arranged.”
“And like I’ll said, I’ll rearrange it.”
“I got a Porsche to pay for.”
“And you’re on paid leave.” He shook his head and took up his fork. “It’s too soon.”
“Honey, I need to get back to life. I had my time. I got my daisies. I did my drama. I’m not sayin’ nothin’ else is gonna spring up with all that and bite me in the ass. I’m gonna have my moments. But now, sittin’ around the house is one long moment that reminds me my life was interrupted by that *.”
“You won’t be thinking about that in Aspen with me.”
“True enough,” I agreed. “And I wanna do that, Marcus. I really do. I’ve never been to Aspen and I bet it’s real pretty. And it’s sweet you wanna spend time with me there. It’s just sweet you like spending time with me. But Smithie takes care of me. It’s time I take care of him right back. Maybe after a while, I can take a few days and we can go.”
“Smithie’s fine, Daisy.”
“Without me there, Smithie’s bleeding money, Marcus.”
“He isn’t.”
“Maybe you don’t get to look at the books but when I say he pays me a whack, he pays me a whack.”
His gaze steady on me, he socked it to me.
“He doesn’t. I do. I cover your salary, Daisy, and I have for the last two months.”
“Say what?” I whispered.
“I pay your salary. Smithie couldn’t afford you.”
But I was stuck on the last two months.
The last two months.
The last two months where that time ago Smithie took away a whole set, one song off the other sets and ended my lap dances but increased my pay so much, my eyeballs burned when I got a good look at the first paycheck.
And…
Two months.
Before the rape.
Before anything.
“Say what?” I repeated, not on a whisper, on a breath.
“I didn’t want you on the stage for four sets with those sets being three songs, too long alone up there and exposed. And I definitely didn’t want you doing lap dances. So to cover the loss in tips that would be, we elevated your salary, and because Smithie couldn’t pay that and it wasn’t his decision, I covered it.”
“You didn’t know me.”
“No. But I knew I wanted to.”
I stared at him.
Then I started, “Why didn’t you—?”
I cut myself off because it felt all of a sudden like something was stuck in my throat and I thought it pertinent to focus on breathing.
“Daisy?”
Marcus looked concerned.
I put a hand flat on the table and pushed through the thing choking me.
“That was two months ago.”
“Darling—”
“Before he got to me.”
Marcus went still.
I pushed up on my hand, shoved back my seat, and took my feet.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” I screeched.
He was out of his seat, too, and approaching me.
“Daisy—”
I scuttled back and lifted up a hand but he didn’t stop moving so I didn’t either as I bit out, “Don’t come near me.”
“I had things happening,” he said quietly.
“You saw me. You knew you wanted to take your shot,” I hissed. It all was coming to me, pouring over me like boiling oil. “That day. That day you were there and you left without even looking at me. You were up in Smithie’s office with Smithie. The next day Smithie gave me my raise. You saw me. You knew then.”
He kept coming at me, stalking me around the table.
“When I made my approach, Daisy, I wanted it to have my full attention.”
“If I was Marcus Sloan’s moll, no one would even think of touching me.”
“I couldn’t have known you’d be raped, baby.”
I shook my head, still retreating while he advanced and he did it speaking.
“And you’re wrong. Men like that I don’t get so I don’t get how they can do the things they do, but if he had that monstrousness in his head, it’s doubtful anyone could have stopped him, even me.”
He was making sense and I didn’t need sense.
“I need to go,” I forced out.
“It’s not my fault.”
That made me stop dead. The words and the tortured way he said them.
When I stopped, he moved in. Hands cupping the sides of my head, he held it back and bent his face to mine.
“It’s not my fault, honey. It isn’t anyone’s fault. If I could have stopped it, I would. If I could make a miracle and go back in time to erase it, I would. But I can’t. And you could have been mine then, and unless I had reason to put a man on you, which I can’t say I would do, not in the beginning, it might alarm you and I would do nothing that might alarm you, he would have found his way to get to you.”